


Laying It All On the Line

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Romance, argument, relationship angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: One of them has to take the chance. Lisbon is drifting into other relationships, seeking to salvage twelve years lost to loving Jane. It's all second choice, but hot and cold Jane confusion is over. One-shot. Strong situations. Suicide reference. If you don't like that stuff, then don't read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.Originally posted at FFnet on January 3, 2014. Now here with minor edits to improve readability.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Anonymous on Tumblr for reminding me to include Jane's concern for Lisbon if he had killed himself after killing RJ being a deeper wound because of her father's suicide.

"I really need to talk to you, Lisbon. And not here."  


Lisbon had watched his constant low level of excited agitation for days. Jane seemed to have come to an important decision. Or maybe he had developed a "play" of some sort. Whatever it was, he hadn't put it in motion yet. This looked to her like "pre-play" excitement. Like a little boy who had been told the family would go to the fair this weekend. Or, maybe he was just drinking too much tea. She rolled her eyes at the file she was studying.  


"Jane. I'm not sure I want to be involved in whatever you're cooking up."  


"How do you know, if I don't tell you about it."  


She smirked at him. "If it excites you this much, it must be risky. Anyone who knows you will give you a wide berth."  


"Is that why Cho is keeping so busy doing nothing?"  


"I wouldn't be surprised." She cleared her throat. "But seriously, Jane. We haven't been on this job very long. Are you sure you want to keep stirring up trouble?"

"Isn't that what they hired me for?" He sat in the chair at the side of her desk. "Anyway, it's not about work. And it's Friday night. You can sleep in tomorrow."  


Now Lisbon _was_ wary, and she didn't hide it when she looked at Jane. "It sounds like a long talk."  


"Honestly, Lisbon. It's not bad. Can you come out to the Airstream after work?"  


"Yes." She waggled her head from side to side. "But, why?"  


"I told you. I need to talk to you."  


"From the looks of things, you've needed to talk to me for about three days."  


"Now you're getting the idea."  


"Fine. I can't take another day of Patrick Jane with ants in his pants."  


"Ha, ha. Funny Lisbon. But it is kind of like that."  


.x.x.x.x.x.

  


Full of joy, so full of joy when Lisbon had accepted a contract to join the FBI and work with him after all. But then, that first case they worked, she had clipped his wings, made it clear that she wanted no part of him, that she just wanted to work the case the FBI had brought her in on and go home to her own life. Her own life that didn't include him. She wanted to get it over with and get away from him. It was like a stone in his heart, hurting and constricting his life.  


He hadn't argued or cajoled, hadn't tried to minimize or make a joke of it. They were way past that now. They had sailed to the edge of the world where there be dragons and he had no map. Nor would she be his guide. And then she had changed her mind and accepted the job. She seemed so happy, had even given him socks for his naked callused feet.  


But since then a distance had formed. Maybe it was professional on Lisbon's part, falling into their old way of relating even though she wasn't his boss anymore. His own actions, Jane could only call cowardice. Afraid to move from the comfort of habit, afraid Lisbon would reject him and he would have so much less than he had now. He sensed the utter brokenness at the bottom of that pit.  


Jane felt the shame, ugliness and utter unavoidability of the things he had done. He was unworthy of the woman before him, the woman he loved. Blowing hot and cold with her for years, according to how well he had been able to contain his feelings at any given time, and then how thoroughly he'd had to pull back because he would fail . . . he had made her afraid of him, afraid of her own feelings. Afraid to offer even the tiniest part of the great woman she was. He had made her feel small, even undesirable. What a worm of a man he was! Nothing could be further from the truth.  


He loved Teresa, fiercely, passionately. It was leaking out of him everywhere, an agony that had him checking to see if he had sweated blood yet. It couldn't go on. There was no choice but to risk everything for what he truly wanted. A life with her. If he couldn't have that, he needed to know now. It couldn't wait any longer.  


Lisbon hadn't wanted to enter the trailer, so they built a fire in the permanent grill provided by the motor home site and stood around it to keep warm as they talked in the freezing night air. Or rather, so far, as they waited for Jane to talk.  


Finally, looking at his feet, Jane spoke in a low voice. "I know I wasn't before . . . I couldn't be . . . I mean, I didn't think I could be . . . that I had the right . . . or could take the chance . . . with your safety." Crap! Who could make sense of that halting gibberish! He lifted his head to see that Lisbon's face was downcast, too. He called her softly to look at him. "Lisbon."  


Eyes shadowed and wary, as if to ward off a blow, Lisbon met his gaze.  


"But I'm trying to be clear now . . . that I want you in my life. And I want to be a part of yours."  


Lisbon shifted on her feet, saying nothing, the cold ground crunching as she moved.  


"I'm not saying I deserve it. Far from it. You wanted me to talk about my real feelings. This is a feeling I'm sure of. It's the bedrock that I walk on. The only thing that's given me sure footing for years. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."  


"You only thought you couldn't tell me." She turned her body away from him.  


"Yes. That's what I thought." He was so grateful that she hadn't walked away and couldn't blame her for not wanting to look at him. "I think I was right."  


"Of course you do." Soft, cold, almost bitter.  


"Whatever you have against me, I'm guilty, I know."  


The last weather spot before they'd gathered at the grill reported the temperature as thirty degrees and dropping. There was no wind, and Lisbon could almost feel ice crystals settling out of the air to frost every surface, just like the chill in her life. Loud, her voice seemed amplified by the frozen night and the stillness of the natural setting. "You robbed me, Jane." Then softer, as hot tears spilled onto her cold cheeks, trailing wisps of steam in the outside light. "You robbed me."  


It was much worse than Jane thought. He knew it wouldn't be easy to get her to open to him. Just then, he felt it would be impossible. His stomach lurched in pain and dismay and he didn't know how to hold it to make it stop. Looking at the stars, he opened his lungs and sucked in cold air like a man drowning, to keep from passing out. He could think of many ways he had robbed her. "How," he pleaded breathlessly, "how can I pay you back . . . make, make restitution?"  


"I don't know." Turning to him, Lisbon registered how pale he looked, even in the reflected firelight, how he held his stomach and gulped air. He would have to manage his own distress this time. She had no doubt he wanted what he said he wanted. "It helps that you want to make it up to me. But I don't have the answers." When he faced her again, his eyes were pleading. It tugged her heart, and she let it go like a snapping rubber band. "But I have to go now."  


As she walked to the car, there was only silence behind her, no footsteps, no door opening. Did it even matter that he didn't run after her? She started the engine and turned on the headlights to see that Jane was standing where she had left him. This was too big. This was too big for both of them.  


The drive from Lake Travis to her apartment was fairly lengthy since she lived in Austin proper. Her thoughts racing and her feelings a riot that fogged her mind, she switched off the radio so that she could pay attention to something, any thought in the chattering swirl that threatened to overwhelm her.  


Why? Why now? She had given him up, let go of her deepest desires. She had been out on a few dates and it had been fun. What he was asking her . . . to turn back . . . why didn't she jump at it? Was she afraid to actually get what she wanted? Maybe. But mostly, she was just too despondent to try.  


Patrick Jane was a force. A stubborn, exhausting force who looked only to his own will and goals to decide what to do. Everyone else either moved out of his way, if they had come to know him, or got knocked off the path if they stood in his way. If it took everything in her to work with the man, how could she possibly survive _living_ and working with him? Was she even remotely strong enough to do battle with Patrick Jane? Is that what she wanted her life to be? She wanted peace, love, family. All that she had given up, waiting for Jane. And she was trying to accept that it was gone. Taken from her. Robbed. But deep down, she knew her own complicity.  


Entering her apartment, she headed straight for the shower and bed. Even if she laid awake half the night thinking, at least she would be comfortable.  


And she kept thinking about that first plane ride. Probably the hardest thing she had ever said to him, and certainly the hardest he'd had to hear from her—and he had no reply. He just nodded his head and turned away. No answer at all. As if he'd understood. He'd accepted quietly that she wanted no part of him, even though she knew she had hurt him terribly. Patrick Jane had never done that. Ever. Could he actually change, now that the burden of Red John was lifted?  


Lisbon remembered what Jane could accomplish when his mind was made up. Not about a case. But for her. More than a year ago when she had drawn the line about Lorelei. Either he would trust Lisbon and became her true partner or she would cut him loose. In retrospect, the change in him had been a swift turn-around. She had watched him struggle with it and it wasn't always pleasant, for either of them. But there was no doubt whom he trusted, who was his partner and finally who was the boss of the CBI team. It was her. He had given up much of his secrecy.  


Was his behavior on the plane a sign of his willingness to relinquish attempts to control her, even if it meant giving her up? It was too soon to tell. And she hadn't been watching. She'd been looking for someone else.  


Turning out the light, Lisbon lay back with a sigh. Still warm from her shower, it felt good to be fresh and clean. Maybe she could get some sleep after all.  


Was she so innocent? At those times when she thought her feelings would cut like razor wire to get out, gut her or slice her heart to ribbons, what had she done? Clamped down harder, made herself into numb steel and forced her attention away so that she would show no hurt, or worse, tenderness. She could have chosen to tell him how she felt, thrown it in his face and let him deal with it. Not taken it on herself to protect his feelings for his dead wife. How was that her burden, especially after ten years? And now more than twelve. The passing of that much time seemed impossible, a travesty in the face of what they could have shared.  


Oh, it was impossible! She couldn't think about it anymore. It was too big. She rolled to the side, drew up the covers and not so much fell asleep as passed out.  


.x.x.x.x.x.

  


Jane hadn't been in to work in three days. Lisbon hadn't tried to contact him. But for him not to pester her with text messages and phone calls was highly unusual. The first day, she assumed he was pouting. The second, that he had taken a couple of days off to think things through or get drunk or whatever Patrick Jane did when he was upset and couldn't get his way. The third day, she became concerned, especially when he did not respond when she finally relented and sent him a text message. She was his friend, after all. Now, she'd have to ask Agent Fischer.  


"Where's Jane?"  


Fischer looked up. It was hard to tell if she was perplexed, amused or if her panties had slipped up her crack. "Don't you know?"  


Lisbon shrugged coolly. "No. Did he quit?"  


Fisher barely stifled a smirk. "He came in, asked to be issued a laptop and said he would work cases from home until he was physically needed on a crime scene. Are you two fighting?"  


"Do you need him for a case?"  


"No."  


"Is he working the cases by computer that he said he would?"  


"Yes."  


"Then, respectfully, Agent Fischer, I don't know what more I can add."  


"Right. Thank you."  


As soon as she could break away, late in the afternoon, Lisbon drove out to Jane's Airstream at Lake Travis. His truck was out front. When she knocked, he didn't come to the door right away. She saw a curtain move at the window up from the door, but he still didn't come to open it. She knocked again. Not even any curtain movement this time. Well, this was just silly. "Jane! Jane, I know you're in there. Open up!"  


He pushed the door open and withdrew inside. Lisbon poked her head in first and saw him sitting at the kitchen table at his laptop. Turning his head to give her a reproachful glare, he turned back to the laptop and said, "I'm working."  


She could tell he was pouting because his bottom lip was sticking out. The corners of his eyes were crusted with sleep, and his face had an oily sheen that said he hadn't washed. There was an odor of perspiration when she approached him. "You're sulking."  


"Go away, Lisbon. I'm working."  


"You never work when you can pester me."  


"Well, now who's pestering whom?"  


Unbelievable. "You can't stand a little payback?"  


"Make sure you're keeping score, Lisbon. That's what's important."  


"I can't believe it. You want to fight."  


"No. I want you to go away."  


"All right. That's what I'll do. Will you be in tomorrow?"  


"What do you care? And don't ask me if I'm twelve years old."  


"I guess you know how you sound, then." She turned to leave, but before she could put her hand on the door, Jane spoke.  


"What do you mean I robbed you?"  


She studied his face, his brow furrowed in anger. She didn't speak.  


"Well?"  


"You certainly have a different tone today. The other night you were all contrite and willing to accept the blame for everything."  


"You're not answering me!" He stood up and crossed his arms at his chest. Lisbon failed to read it for the self-protective gesture it was. "You say I robbed you, but you don't know how I can restore what I took. I think you don't know how I robbed you either! You just wanted to hurt me! You don't want to forgive me."  


The little guilt that had seeped in to thwart Lisbon's resolve to stand firm against him evaporated as she watched Jane portray himself as the injured party. Lisbon took a leaning step toward him. 'Years!" she shouted. "Years, Jane! All the years we could have been together. The years you apparently loved me and wouldn't say, wouldn't trust me to figure it out with you. Maybe marriage. Maybe children. All probably gone. At the very least you could have said you didn't want me and let me find someone else."  


"And all that is my fault? I couldn't—I was trying to protect you! Not to mention, grieving! Isn't it customary to assume if a man hasn't declared himself that a woman is free to move on?" Silently, he called petty bullshit on himself and was even ashamed. What was killing him, right now, was that she was trying to move on.  


The barb landed. "That's not fair! I don't begrudge you grieving. I totally get it. But the last couple years . . . you said you loved me, and then you said you forgot? Bullshit! I knew your situation. You think I didn't see you change that last year or so? Become my real partner? Stop lying to me? Mostly . . ." She stomped her foot. "Acknowledge that you were going to run me! I saw it all!" She rushed the table and jammed her index finger down to make her point. "And now. Now, we're free and clear. And there's nothing."  


She backed away again, approaching the door. "But don't worry. Because I'm just as big a coward as you are! I didn't say anything. I could have spoken up and let it all fall where it would. God, I'm sick of all this! It makes no sense to argue about it. There's too much! Twelve years of it! It's too big to go through point by point and assign blame. Or even understand it all. We'll destroy each other with it! We have to drop it all and move on from here! There's no other way."  


Lisbon realized she was screaming now and trembling with rage. She stormed out and slammed the door behind her.  


Jane opened the door and shouted at her back. "There's really only one question, Lisbon. Do you want us to be together? Whatever happened before, whatever time we've lost, it's gone. What do you want, now?"  


"Nothing!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, followed by a wordless howl. "Leave me alone! You're crazy!" She got in the car, slammed the door, started it up and pulled away.  


Jane smiled. They'd never had a screaming fight. She hadn't even cried! And neither had he. Lisbon was right. The only thing they could do was drop the scorekeeping and move on. She was talking about a fresh start! He ran in the house, grabbed his keys and a jacket, jumped in the truck and took after her, hoping to catch her on the road and bring her back to finish their "talk." She had probably taken the back way to avoid the traffic on Interstate 35. And try to calm down.  


Not wanting to speed excessively down two-lane roads that were still not overly familiar to him, he set his pace about five miles per hour faster than her usual speed, feeling confident that he knew enough about her driving habits to make a good estimate. There were stop signs and traffic lights in the small towns he passed through and he ran into a few cars, any number of pick-ups and even a tractor sauntering along under the speed limit. It was getting winter dark.  


About three quarters of the way to Lisbon's apartment, he saw what he was pretty sure were her taillights ahead and sped up to confirm his observation. He honked. She let off the gas in reflex. He honked again. She slowed and he pulled level to her, letting down the passenger side window. When she saw it was him, she waved him off and resumed her speed. Jane sped up in the oncoming lane, then pulled a little ahead of her, put on his blinker and honked again. This time, Lisbon slowed and stopped, parking on the edge of the road and setting her hazard lights. She got out of the car as Jane parked ahead of her.  


The asshole! If he thought she'd run home crying, he'd better look out! She had amazed herself what a slow drive down the back roads with the radio off could do for revenge fantasies in a tortured imagination.  


"Are you trying to get shot?"  


"Do you have any idea how many times you've threatened to do that?"  


"About as many times as you act crazy and drive me to desperation! What the fuck do you want, Jane?"  


"Language, Lisbon."  


"Fuck you."  


"Still angry, I see."  


"Is this what you stopped me for?"  


"No. I wanted to tell you I accept!"  


"Accept what?"  


"Your offer."  


"You mean, my offer to shoot you?" She fumbled at her waist as if she was searching for her gun to grant his request, knowing full well she wasn't wearing it.  


"Ha, ha, Lisbon. No. Your offer to let go of all the big stuff we can't solve and move on from now."  


"I made no such offer. What is this bullshit, Jane?"  


"You said, 'We have to drop it all and move on from here. There's no other way." I agree. And I accept. You make me very happy, Teresa." He moved close as if to embrace or kiss her.  


"Hey! Back up, buster! I didn't mean that as an offer! I was saying how hopeless things are between us."  


"They're not hopeless, Teresa. Not if we want it. I think your idea is just the right thing."  


"I didn't have any idea."  


"That's very humble of you. But they were your words, not mine."  


Lisbon stared at him, open-mouthed, then snapped her jaws shut. "Where's my gun? I'm going to get this over with. If you can kill people and get away with it, so can I. Knowing it's you, I'm sure the FBI won't even charge me."  


Jane stared at her, still as stone.  


"What? You're shocked?"  


"Yes. Yes, I am. You know what it takes to kill someone. It's not funny."  


"I've killed in the line of duty. Not with my bare hands."  


The night hung like an open tomb between them.  


The entire experience of his last encounter with Red John played in his body like it was happening again at super-speed. Shooting him in the church, chasing him into the park until he collapsed. Strangling him with his large hand, his left hand with Angela's wedding ring to represent his lost family. The strange physical, no orgasmic release as the life flowed from the man's body. And the despair, the agony of what to do next. The gun still in his right hand.  


"I almost killed myself, used my gun. I started to put it to my head."  


Lisbon gaped at him, shocked to her marrow. In all the years she'd known him, she'd seen him very low, but never suicidal. "Jane! You never told me that. Christ!" She made the sign of the cross. "Do you know what that would have done to me? To all of us?"  


"Please don't lump everybody together on that, Lisbon!" There were tears in his eyes and his face was twisted with pain. "Don't pretend that you're not any more important to me than the others. Or that I'm just as important to them as I am to you. Just don't. It's a lie. And it's going backwards to where everything is too big."  


"Why? Why would you do such a thing? After finally getting your revenge and putting the man down? Why?"  


"To make an end. To save you the pain of having to take up for a murderer. To even be associated with a murderer. Because I let you down. I killed him for my own justice and didn't let him be taken by the law." He shifted on his feet. "But I couldn't do that to you . . . I know you, you care about me. And . . . after your dad . . . "  


She reached for his arm, stroking it gently. "No. No. You didn't let me down. I told you. He deserved death. Even the rest of the team said so. Even when we thought it was Bertram, our boss. We were going to kill him ourselves, if we had to. You did the right thing, Jane. I don't have any doubts about that, or you."  


"But your dad . . . "  


Lisbon stared blankly at him with her mouth open. Jane knew she must be reliving that memory. "Yes. I couldn't save him." Her eyes cleared. "And I couldn't save you." She looked at him, direct, so there would be no confusion. "I'm glad you could save yourself."  


Jane had been holding his shoulders terribly high and tight, a defensive pose preparing to receive Lisbon's wrath. But her response now was very different, and he let his shoulders drop. The contrast made him appear almost contrite. "You did save me, Lisbon. That's why I didn't do it. It all happened so fast in my mind. But as soon as I thought of you, I couldn't do it. It would be worse. I couldn't hurt you like that. You'd think I didn't care about you enough to stay. So I just ran to where I could maybe stay hidden and hope some day to come back to you."  


"To me." She shuffled her feet on the pavement. "You ran to that island so you wouldn't run away from me forever."  


His brow drawn together in irritation, Jane spoke with some heat. "Yes, Lisbon, hoping to come home to you. Who else? Of my two choices . . . " He softened his voice. "I just wanted a chance to get back to you."  


She looked quietly at the ground. "You don't have to take my head off."  


He paused and gawked at the top of her bowed head. This from a woman who had just threatened to get her gun and shoot him. He let it pass. Too big. "Sorry."  


He waited a moment to see what she would say, but she was still silent, looking at the ground. "And here I am. I made it." He longed to see her face, to see that she understood that he had come back to her. For her. "Look at me."  


Raising her head she sighed, not in exasperation this time, and looked quietly into his eyes.  


"I love you."  


Now, she looked at him like he had three heads.  


"I love you."  


She looked at the ground again, shaking her head, then raised up and searched his face.  


"I love you." He waited again. "You don't believe me."  


Her hands went into her pockets. Then she gave him a pouty look and shrugged.  


"I can prove it. I want to make love to you. I love you, Teresa." He moved toward her, wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her. She stopped him with a word.  


"Jane." She looked at him pointedly. "We're in the middle of the road."  


"Isn't there a song about that?" He waggled his eyebrows and walked toward her again. "I love you. How many times do I have to say it?"  


"What? Because you want to fuck me?" She started laughing. She'd wanted to hurt him. But seeing that moment flash through his eyes and knowing she had hit her mark, she quieted guiltily, looking aside.  


Jane didn't let her sting stop him. "No. I want to make love to you. There's a difference."  


"I know that."  


"Do you?"  


"Jesus! I can't talk about this here."  


"You are so right, Lisbon." Jane sighed heavily, tired and cold, wanting shelter. "You always know what to do. We're closest to your house. Let's go there."  


She glared at him. She knew he would not let this drop. And, truthfully, she wanted to hear more. His timing was ridiculous, but she sensed his sincerity. "Fine."  


"Before we go . . . " He held out his left hand and removed the ring, opened his key ring and slipped the wedding band onto it. "Temporary until I get home and find a permanent place to tuck it away."  


Her eyes watering, Lisbon stared at him, lips parted in wonder. "Why did you do that?"  


Sighing, Jane stepped up to her and wrapped her in his arms. "Because I love you, Teresa. Only you. I love you." He lowered his face to her upturned one and kissed her tenderly as she closed her eyes, then broke away. "That's why."  


She stood quietly as he stepped back and said, "Let's go."  


"Yeah. Okay."  


"Uh. Get in your car, then."  


"Sure."  


"Teresa, should we take one car and leave the other one?"  


Giving him a startled glance she wrinkled her brow and said, "No. Why would we do that?"  


He smiled. "Silly me. Are you ready now?"  


"Of course. Get in your car. It's getting late."  


.x.x.x.x.x.

  


When they were in Lisbon's apartment, she offered to make him some tea. He declined, instead moving slowly toward her as if she was a skittish cat.  


"Let me hold you. Let me kiss you. Let me make love to you."  


"How is that going to help?"  


"You won't believe my words."  


"So I should let you f-, make love to me?" Lisbon felt herself getting very curious about his request, something she'd lain awake in bed wondering about, fantasizing about, many times.  


Jane saw the heat form in her eyes. "What we would do is much more important than what you've done with other men." He caught her sharp glance. "Or what I've done with other women," he added quickly.  


"Women?"  


"Well, one other woman. I'm not counting my marriage."  


Lisbon nodded her acceptance of what he said.  


"It will take more than words, for us."  


She nodded again.  


"I have to check with you about one more thing. You said I'd robbed you of years—"  


"Please don't bring that up. It's too big to solve now. Too big and too late."  


"I'm bringing it up for now . . . and for the future, not the past. Robbed you of family . . . Do you want babies?"  


Lisbon clamped her hand to her forehead. "What?"  


He pulled her into a light embrace and she didn't struggle out of it. Better to be touching her when they talked about this, if she would tolerate it. "I'll give them to you. I'll fill you with them. As many as you want. And love them."  


"Babies? Tonight?"  


"If you're worried it's too late, let's see if it is. Stop the pill. Are you on it? I won't use a condom. Are you really ready to get pregnant?"  


"No! Not tonight, Jane!"  


"But you will make love to me tonight . . . so I can show you—"  


"That you love me? What if I just say I believe you? Who wouldn't believe you, after all this?"  


"Then, if you believe me, wouldn't you want me to make love to you? That is, if you love me, too."  


"I'm just getting used to standing here in your arms."  


He kissed her then. Just her temple, her forehead. He swayed softly with her in his arms until she put hers around his waist, rested her cheek on his chest for a few moments and then turned her face up for his lips.  


Soft and sweet, he didn't hurry anything now. When kisses heated her, he slipped off her top as she held up her arms. When she slid her hands under his shirt to feel his skin rise and hear his breath quicken under her touch, he let her remove his shirt, helping with the buttons. Oh, her hot little kisses thrilled him! Covering his chest, his shoulders and arms, and then laving his tight nipples.  


When she began to brush her breasts against him, he removed her bra and feasted on her full round flesh, filling his hands and his mouth at the same time. Her arms caught them and pressed them forward when she hugged him, dragging the taut nipples to and fro across his ribs and then his chest when he bent down to kiss her. They seared his skin, leaving warm memory traces wherever she brushed them.  


Naturally, she was very curious about his male flesh, now long fully erect, and he allowed her all the time she wanted to explore him over his clothes. Soon her fingers were on his belt buckle, opening the fastenings of his trousers and letting them fall before his shoes were off. But he didn't care as she continued touching him over his boxers, learning every surface before she ever saw it. Finally, she stepped back. "Your shoes." And she bent down to help him out of his shoes and socks as he balanced a hand on her back. She quickly got out of her own shoes.  


"Take my pants off, Patrick." He loved that she asked him, but his hands trembled a little as he opened the front of them and put his hands on her hips to slide them down, revealing pink cotton bikini panties. His breath caught as he saw they were wet between her legs and caught deep between her labia, outlining the plump lips.  


"Lisbon. You're so beautiful."  


"I want to go to my bed."  


"Of course."  


By the bed, each started to remove the last articles of their clothing, and quickly gasped and said, "No, me!" when they saw the other grab the waistbands of their underwear.  


Their laughter was subdued, but it discharged the tension of the moment. Lisbon reached Jane first and pulled the elastic over his erection. Kissing his flesh there, she slid the boxers over his rump and to the floor where he kicked them aside. "So beautiful, Jane." She touched him tentatively, running her fingers lightly up the shaft and over the plump head, catching his moisture on her fingertips.  


He reached for her shoulders to steady himself and moaned. Then, lowering his hands to her hips and resting them there for a long kiss as she played, he tucked a finger under the elastic at the lower front of her panties and, gently pulling the wet material down and out of her vulva, he took the panties down, kissing her belly as he bent to get them off her feet.  


Getting into her bed, Jane extended an arm, catching her hand to bring her next to him. Their passion quickened, with nothing to impede them and nothing between their skins, hands skimming everywhere.  


Lisbon was soon moaning deeply and seemed ready for him. But when he brought his hand between her legs and intended to explore her with his fingers, she tensed up. Removing his hand, he placed it on her hip instead and returned to kissing her. When he pressed his erection against her hip, riding it gently, suggestive of where he wanted to go next, she stopped kissing him and held him slightly at bay with her hands on his arms.  


"Give yourself over to me. I'll take care of everything tonight."  


"I'm trying. I can't"  


His new kisses were warm wet invitations on her neck, soft gobbling kisses, his tongue sucking and tasting everywhere, but lingering at the arteries where her heartbeat throbbed.  


"What are you afraid of?"  


"You!"  


He paused, very still and listening. "Do you want to stop?"  


"No! I don't want to be afraid of you."  


Yet she fought him, fought her need for him, fought the risk of loving him. She was almost panting with the desire he drew from her like a snake-charmer, doing things with his mouth that she couldn't begin to identify, and then moving to her breasts, forcing her almost to unconsciousness with sensation, undifferentiated fire everywhere at once.  


Why couldn't they just have sex? Why couldn't anything with Patrick be controllable? She shouted in frustration and bit the meat of his shoulder, not hard, but hard enough to make him flinch and cry out before he snapped and his whole body was doing things everywhere. She bit him again, trying to focus the charge that was running wild through her, make it stop, make it connect with something, flow out and calm her down, make her something separate from him instead of one writhing, singing flesh. She didn't want to lose herself!  


"Let go, Teresa, let go . . . you're safe with me. Let me take you. Open your legs for me. I want you to take me in, give me a home. You're my only shelter. You've always been my only shelter."  


Her heart broke then and nearly strangled her as she opened her throat for breath. She tried to choke them back, but great sobbing calls seared her as they forced their way out and she turned her face into his neck to try to stifle them. Instead he used his neck to caress her, curving it to lay his cheek on hers, saying, "Oh, Teresa. What? Tell me. I want to hear."  


Everything stopped fighting inside her, grew still and boundless, mingling with the love he was trying to give her. "I love you! I love . . . you . . . Patrick." Her confession flowed from the deep double thrumming within that was Patrick already flowing into the now vulnerable, exposed boundary of her need. "I need shelter, too. You don't know how badly. Can you be mine?"  


"Yes. I can be your shelter. Oh, thank you. Thank you, Teresa." He held her, kissing everywhere he could reach, sighing and telling her he loved her.  


She opened her legs underneath him, sliding easily in the sweat of their bodies.  


As he slipped into her, she gasped and looked away, concentrating on the sensation of intense pleasure, long awaited. But he squeezed tighter and breathed her name, forcing her to open her eyes, to look at him as he pressed into her body, moved in her. Looking into his dark eyes, so open and deep, he seemed to question her, talk to her through the joining of their bodies, always seeking to share pleasure. She'd never had this experience of sex before. It was beautiful, filled with a deep calm where their silent messages for one another could be heard in the smallest quickening breath and the tiniest noises of pleasure.  


As her back arched, nearing extremis, her eyes closed again and she heard him say, "No!" softly, almost sadly, pleading. She opened them again and looked at him. He smiled and kissed her, murmured a soft, "Thank you," and shifted to a new angle.  


It was a caress, so tender and thorough, complete. She felt the love Patrick made to her, the same as if he'd said it and her eyes flew wide to hear him whisper, "Yes!" as an orgasm crashed through her, watching him smile and then say the words aloud. She cried out from surprise, lost in pleasure and release and something much bigger, private and profound between them. And she moaned to him until she was keening and breathless. He was shooting into her, groaning with each spasm, still looking at her so that she could see the depth of what she was doing to him, groaning for her. She gasped again and kissed him open-mouthed, swallowing his groans like semen, taking his love in breath, her core still clutching him.  


She fell asleep, her hands in his hair, her lips on his mouth whispering his name. He held her in a light embrace, feeling his name fall like flower petals from her lips until he knew no more.  


.x.x.x.x.x.

  


Breakfast was an informal forage by two love-worn friends.  


Lisbon sat on the couch in front of the coffee table in the living room with a hot cup of Italian roast, paring slivers of Gruyere from a small block. This morning she was eating it with those lovely in-store crackers, salted lightly with flecks of rosemary. She particularly liked them because they were as large as graham crackers. Jane was nearby, drinking tea in the armchair, eating ripe pineapple sliced with the rind, biting and slurping it like watermelon, the wonderful aroma scenting the space between the two of them. He finished before her and sipped the last of his tea, allowing himself the surreptitious pleasure of watching Lisbon eat.  


She was laying slivers of Gruyere on her tongue as she pared them. He watched her lips part, then open as her small wet tongue darted out to catch the sliver, the tip of her tongue curling to hold it as it disappeared into her mouth and she began to chew. Her closed lips, a little kiss-plumped and raw from the night's lovemaking, writhed as she tasted, her tongue pushing them from behind. Her eyes closed and a humming satisfaction sounded quietly in her throat before she swallowed it down, opened her eyes, then narrowed them in pleasure and licked her lips. She smiled at him and suddenly he was next to her, kissing, pushing a begging tongue between her lips to enter her mouth, then tasting her everywhere, trying to taste the Gruyere as it had tasted to her. Lisbon was overwhelmed and desire shot through her faster than her blood could circulate, leaving her gasping. Jane broke the kiss and licked her lips, then took them into his mouth. He wanted to taste all of her.  


All at once, Lisbon was on her back, her arms and legs flying open for balance as he caught her head, slowing everything down for just that moment to lay her gently on the cushions. Then he was a wolf, opening her legs and crouching between them, shunting the crotch of her panties aside to lick her, take great mouthfuls of her and slide them between his lips and tongue, then probing her deeper inside than any tongue had a right to go. Lisbon realized he was trembling, almost shivering, his movements frantic as a starving dog who feared its food would be taken away. Raising her head to look at him, she caught a glimpse of his face. It seemed twisted with pain more than passion and he made a whining sound as if he had to hurry before she disappeared.  


"Jane," she said softly. "Patrick. Stop a minute."  


He looked at her with mouth wide, sorrow in his eyes, as if his worst fear had just come true. He was afraid she would change her mind about him!  


She sat up, then lodged her hands gently at the back of his armpits and tugged him up, panting, for a slow kiss. "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to hurry. I'll take them off for you." She slipped her panties from her hips and he moved to one side so that she could kick them off. "Now I can feel you everywhere, as I want to. Nothing in the way." Lisbon lifted one leg to anchor her foot at the top of the low couch back and let the other hang off the side, opening herself to him, his fingers already on her, petting the soft flesh.  


When he bent his head, he was the wolf again, but not frantic or fearful, pressing her lowered thigh open so that he could get his large wide tongue everywhere. The pressure of orgasm built and filled her groin, and she closed both thighs at his neck, focusing his attentions to her clitoris. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer to suck and flog the tight little organ until Lisbon pushed herself hard against his mouth, forcing her clit under his top lip and against his teeth as she broke apart, trembling and surging at the same time. He pulled back a little to lick the bud softly, prolonging her pleasure until the waves of her orgasm subsided.  


Jane's head was resting on her belly when Lisbon's eyes opened to look at him, shining. She smiled and reached for him. They kissed quietly as she stroked his cheeks, creating an aura of love and tenderness that held Jane in thrall. There was no one who could make him forget every vulnerability, any blemish. Only Lisbon. He would do anything for her. Anything.  


"Lift up a little." She pushed on his hipbones to get him so high he had to dig his toes into the couch cushion. Fingers tucked in the waistband, she pulled down his shorts, freeing a beautiful erection, blushed pink with captured blood. Scooting under him, Lisbon settled her lips behind the delicate rounds of his testicles, kissing the tender flesh as they rested against her cheek. When she started licking, she didn't stop until she had tasted every surface of him, all the way to the tip leaking clear salty fluid. He was breathing like a freight train when she closed her lips over him and then the wolf in him yelped. Her hands wrapped and lightly squeezing the shaft, she worked him lovingly into her mouth as far as she could take him.  


Her freedom with him was an urgent fever, contagious. Jane lifted her shirt up and then pulled out of her mouth as he took it completely off, exposing her naked breasts, full and soft. Hands against their sides, he lowered his hips and ran his stiff flesh along the center of her chest between them. "They are so beautiful, Lisbon. I want to feel them all around me."  


Putting her hands on his, she showed him to squeeze tighter, that he wouldn't hurt her. Taking long strokes to ensure his slick coated the entire channel, Jane began to pump harder, the head of his cock bumping softly under Lisbon's chin as he crouched over her, knees low. He shifted to rest his hands lightly on her shoulders for balance as she pressed her breasts together for him  


"Teresa! Ah!" He came, splashing her chin and neck, trailing it down the channel they'd made. He slowed and then stopped, shooting strands of her pearl necklace as he pulsed in ecstasy, looking at her beautiful face, smiling at him. He closed his eyes, arched his head back and caught his breath. Lisbon let her breasts fall and petted him with a soothing hand as he cooled down.  


Snuggled side by side on the couch, first one leaning and then the other, they kissed and touched. Lisbon kept her hand on Jane's soft genitals, toying with them absently, petting and fondling, letting him know how much she loved this part of him and waiting for him to recover so she could have more. When he began to firm up, she stroked him, watching her hand as it seemed to mold him, making his flesh tower from his body. She got up and pulled him to the floor, rolling him to his back to straddle him. Something in her eyes told him she loved the power of this.  


Jane had never felt a woman move her hips that fluidly, as if they had a mind and goals of their own, snaking and gliding his cock until he was so hard he thought he might explode long before he actually reached orgasm. She leaned back and shimmied his thighs open so that her hips could slide even further. Skimming his balls with her firm ass, she sighed, taking it slow so that she could feel the entire stroke. Jane felt her heat build and surround him, her flesh begin to swell inside, encasing him in soft, ecstatic pressure.  


"Let me rest on your knees."  


"Tired?" Her face was bright pink under her freckles, and her chest, scattered rose petals.  


"No, I just want to change the angle. You make me want to come, Patrick, how you feel in me, stuffing me, so hard. It's really strong." She was breathing hard and he could see the pulse pounding in her neck, her face aglow with a light sheen of perspiration.  


Smiling, he repeated her words. "Stuffing you."  


She moved on him just to show him how much he really was stuffing her. The effect on him was immediate.  


"Ah! Ah! You'll make me come!" He pulled up his knees and she leaned back on them near her armpits, arching her back. He smiled at her then and moved his hips to shove in deeper. "Okay, I'm ready now."  


Resting on Patrick's knees let Lisbon lift her hips to air glide along him with little resistance. They were both panting when she dropped her hands to the floor and curled so tightly over him that her breasts brushed his belly as she moved. Her hips made fire where they were joined inside until she jammed down and sealed her sex to his, smiling and sighing as she quaked in orgasm and tumbled him over the edge, pushing to seal himself to her, both leaking love anyway.  


She sat up and rested her arms on Jane's knees again, this time quiet and cooling.  


Jane gazed at her, sitting on him like a queen on her throne. He brushed his hand across her little fluff of pubic hair and sprawled his fingers across her belly in a moving fan. He was still hidden there, inside of her, only the root of him showing wetly where it spread her lips wide open and bared her clitoris. He touched the fat little organ with a fingertip and watched Teresa's thighs jump reflexively. He settled his hand on her delta again.  


"Wow. You really know how to use this thing."  


She looked lazily at him, giving a little smirk. "Yes, I've had it awhile now."  


He wondered briefly who and what she had practiced on, but then didn't want to go there. She could practice on him, now.  


They napped the afternoon in Lisbon's bed with the drapes pulled dark. By the time they arose and showered, they were ravenous and hit the nearest steak place for dinner. When they were down to coffee and desert, Lisbon slouched in her booth. Jane thought she was letting her food settle, maybe even opening her jeans to make her full stomach comfortable. Instead, he fumbled his fork with a clatter as he felt the friction of her small unshod foot wedge in his crotch. Her apparently prehensile toes rippled across him, feeling for him, as she pivoted her heel just below the seam.  


Reaching under the table, he took hold of her foot and began to massage it. Lisbon's eyes went wide, flaring with dark heat, the sensations he caused having nothing to do with her toes. She squirmed and blushed, opening her mouth to breathe. Jane looked into her eyes and gave her a knowing nod, having captured the queen in their sensual game of sexual power.  


Giving Lisbon a small, satisfied smile, he released her foot. "Let's head to the Airstream. I need a change of clothes and we can spend the evening on the lake if you want."  


"Okay, but let's swing by my place again so I can pick up some clothes for tomorrow."  


"I guess I can make room for you in my bed." He winked at her.  


"I guess you'd better. You started something with my feet that you need to finish."  


They grinned at each other, each very happy with the turn their lives had taken together, at last.


End file.
